


Linked

by Surajtare



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:31:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surajtare/pseuds/Surajtare
Summary: Scully and her son talk in dreams. He has a request.





	Linked

**Author's Note:**

> Post "My Struggle IV". Actually post season 11.

Jackson won't admit it, but he is fascinated by his mother. Tough as nails on the outside but vulnerable on the inside. Her softer side she shows only a handful of people; Jackson was one, but he suspects it's because she thought he was dead at the time. She shed tears over his body, an act that embarrassed and moved him. Sarah asks about her and he tries to explain. She has red hair, he says. She's short. She works for the FBI, or at least did.

"Wait," Sarah says, "it's that FBI agent, isn't it? I saw her in the hospital, after..."

She clams up and Jackson is again filled with regret.

"Look, Sarah, I..."

"It's okay," she says, "I know."

"I'm sorry." He says anyway, and she shrugs it off.

Sarah gave up everything for him, her parents and home and friends. They dwell in the fringes, living off his lottery winning, but he's got a feeling her patience is wearing thin. She will leave, eventually. She has to. He knows it, and so does she. For now, though, she is by his side and he is grateful. There is much to be grateful for, he assumes. He can't be killed, and that's a blessing and a curse. Jackson finds it hard to wrap his head around. He was always smart, too smart for his own good, but this is too much even for him to take.

At night, he reaches out to his mother, inviting her into his dream. She accepts, joins him in the twisted no-man's land of his subconscious.

"Why is it so dark in here?" she asks.

"I dunno," he murmurs apologetically. "I think it's because I'm depressed."

"I'm glad you're alive," she says, and she sounds it, but also there's a distance between them now, and he knows who put it there.

"Tell me about him," he asks.

"Who?" she replies weakly.

"My father."

She grows pale, her eyes huge and sad as she stares at him.

"Mulder?" she asks and he shakes his head. No, not him.

"The smoking man." She says, looking away from him. He is connected with her in the weirdest way. He knows she detests the man, hates him to a sickening degree. He knows that his part in the conception of himself, of Jackson, is the reason for the distance between them now. She loved him better when he was Mulder's son. That pains him, and she feels the pain and recoils from it.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I don't know much about him."

"You must know _something_ ," he insists, "you hate him."

She nods, still not looking at him, steeling herself. Eventually she starts telling, her voice level and emotionless.

"His name is CGB Spender. He was involved in a global conspiracy to create a human alien hybrid. I met him 26 years ago, when I was assigned by the FBI to a project called the X files. Your fa...Mulder was my partner. The smoking man...he did terrible things. He was involved in the abduction of your...Mulder's sister and her eventual death. He shot his own son and burned him. He had me abducted and experimented on. He gave me lethal cancer. He made me...inhuman. He created...children, from my ova. "

Jackson stares at her. "Children?" he asks. Plural?

Finally, she looks at him. "There was a girl, about 20 years ago. Emily. She wasn't meant to be. I'm sorry."

"Was she...like me?" he asks weakly.

"No. You are...something else."

Suddenly he is desperate, almost drowning in the need for her love and approval. He had them, not so long ago, before she found out who his father was. She can hardly even look at him now and he is heartbroken. Being born was not his fault, after all.

"Do you...hate me now?" he asks, his voice shaking.

"No!" she says forcefully, looking up at him. "I don't! I'm sorry...I just..."

"You hate my father," he insists, "so you must hate me."

"I don't hate you," she whispers, resting a small hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Jackson realizes he is crying, and she wipes his tears away with her sleeve.

"Will...Jackson, I'm sorry," she says again, "it's all just a lot for me. For years, I thought..."

"that I was Mulder's son," he interjects.

"When I became pregnant, I didn't know what to think," she admits. "I mean, I knew I couldn't. There was no way...and all through the pregnancy I wasn't even sure you were..."

He knows. Human.

"But then you were born, and you were fine, and you were human..."

"I _looked_ human," he interrupts.

"...and Mulder said that you were his and I..."

"believed him?" he suggests.

"I _wanted_ to believe him," she says. "So bad. He was the only one who could...you know...naturally. And I love him."

Jackson recoils, nausea taking over.

"and he's my brother?"

She shakes her head. "We never did a paternity test."

"What?!"

"We...didn't want to know?" she suggests meekly.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Don't be mad," she requests.

"You have my hair," he reminds her and she nods. "You can still do it."

"Would you like me to?" she asks.

" _Are you kidding me_?" he repeats, and she sighs and withdraws from his dream.

*

Scully wakes up just before dawn and groans quietly. She is hurting all over: her breasts, her armpits, her back, even her ankles. Nausea hits her like a wave, and she freezes and takes deep breaths until it subsides somewhat. She forgot what it was like, being pregnant; feeling sick all the time, and exhausted. But she is also excited, nervous and full of wonder. She is 54 years old and has been barren for over 20 years. Also, she can't quite forget that her last one was also a "miracle", and look how that turned out.

She sits up in bed, carefully. If she moves slowly the nausea doesn't take over. Behind her, Mulder stirs and wakes up. When he sees her sitting with her head between her knees he sits up behind her and strokes her back in wide circles. She groans, with pleasure this time. This is nice.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly, and she smiles to herself.

"Pregnant," she replies from between her knees. The hand on her back doesn't change its rhythm.

"Thankful," she adds.

"Oh?" he inquires.

"That you are here," she explains, "going through this with me."

"We are in my house," he says, "so technically _you_ are _here_."

"It's _our_ house, Mulder," she stresses, "we bought it together."

" _Our_ house," he concedes with an audible smile.

The truth is, she didn't officially move back in yet. They sort of melted into co-habitation, very gradually. Ever since the fire she hasn't been to her own apartment, except to check out on the renovations; but she already knows she is not moving back there. Mulder knows it too, it seems. Little by little the house is changing, expanding back to the way it was when they were here together. His desk and newspaper clippings disappear from the living room and appear in the back room; the vacuum cleaner finds its old spot under the stairs; Mulder moves from the couch to the bedroom, where he holds her every night until they fall asleep. She curls into a tight ball and borrows her back into his chest, feeling his heartbeat through her pajama shirt. For years, before they were together and after they separated, she didn't sleep through the night. Now she does.

"I had a dream," she tells Mulder.

"What about?" he asks lazily, moving his hand to soften the knots in her lower back.

"William," She says. "It wasn't a dream, really. I spoke to William last night."

She already told him her son was alive, and he accepted it with visible relief. He said nothing, though, only nodded; and it hurt, because she knew it was her doing. For years Mulder struggled to find his place in regards to her son. He wished him to be his and so she granted his wish (to be honest, she wanted it too), thinking that a human baby must have a human father. She never considered that said human won't be Mulder. Telling him was terrible, and the way she chose to do it probably wasn't the best.

A wave of nausea hits her again, and she takes a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" Mulder is at her ear, holding her.

"Nothing," she shakes her head shortly. "Just...I was thinking about...what Skinner said."

"When, in the hospital?" Mulder asks. Skinner has been hospitalized after his car accident, but he seemed to be doing well. He broke both arms, but even from his hospital bed was fighting to get them their jobs back. Scully wasn't sure she wanted that job anymore, all things considered, but she didn't know how to break it to him.

"No, no. What he said about William. About his father."

Mulder arms go limp. "You mean my father?"

"That's what he said," Scully sits up now, turning to look at him, "but how do we know it's true?"

"What do you mean?" Mulder asks.

"When we spoke tonight, William asked me to do a paternity test," she explains, "because we never did. We just assumed he was yours, even with all the evidence against it..."

"We _wished_ he was mine," Mulder says and she closes her eyes, so grateful to have him back in her life. Mulder knows her so well, it really is a relief to be near him.

"Yes. That's what I told him. But he asked me to check anyway. I still have is hair. Will you give me yours?"

"He's not my son, Scully, he practically told me so himself," Mulder shakes his head.

"Yes, but is he really your brother?"

Mulder frowns. "Are you sure you want an answer to that question?"

"What if he isn't?"

"What if he _is_?"

For a while she is quiet, thinking. "Then we'll have to live with it," she says finally. "Whatever the outcome. I wasn't a good mother to him but he is still my son. I owe him at least this much."

Mulder nods. Scully smiles and kisses him before she gets out of bed. The movement makes her nauseous again and she winces.

"Are you okay?" Mulder asks again.

"Yes," she says, "just...pregnant. It's fine, really. It's not as bad as..."

"As the first one was?"

She sighs. "I'm not even sure how it _was,_ with William. All I can remember was how empty I felt, how lost without you. I felt like I lost a limb. For a while I slept in your bed, trying to feel you. And I couldn't...it hurt so much that I couldn't tell you, you weren't there to share it..."

"I'm here now," Mulder interjects. "I'm here for this one."

"We have to test for paternity," Scully says. "We have to, Mulder. I don't want to repeat the same mistake."

"Why, have you lost time recently?" Mulder asks sarcastically.

"I'm 54!" She says wildly. "I've been barren for over two decades! It's _impossible_ , Mulder. We have to test it. I'll ask them to do it as part of the amniocentesis. I don't want any more surprises."

"Fine, do it if you must," Mulder says, "but I just want to point out that whatever the outcome, I'm going to raise this baby with you. I want it, _and_ you. Don't use it as an excuse to leave me again."

She stands there, dumbstruck, her mouth open.

"I don't care whose baby it is," Mulder says in a softer tone, "and I don't think we need a baby to be together. I love you, Scully. I did from the day you stepped into my office. I'm tired of looking for excuses to be with you. I don't need anything, and I hope you don't too. Just admit it, please. You live here. We are together. Please admit it."

Scully blushes. She nods.

" _Say it_ ," he asks and for once, she does.

"We are together," she says, "I live here. I want to be with you too."

"Whatever the outcome of that test?"

"Whatever the outcome," she concedes and smiles.

"In the meantime, let me call in an old friend at the FBI lab. I know we're not officially there right now but this guy owes me a favor. We'll have the results by tonight so you can tell William."

"Thank you," she says quietly and he nods, pleased with himself. As he goes to shave and brush his teeth she digs up the vial of William's hair from her bedside table drawer (where she keeps it next to a cracked snow globe and Jackson's journal). Mulder takes the vial from her on his way out, stops to kiss her on the forehead and leaves. She is left behind, again, and sighs. This isn't like her at all. But she wants this baby, more than anything. She doesn't want to risk it. Her doctor said she should stay put as much as she can, so she does. She goes on to clean the spare room, William's room, without even knowing why. Maybe, deep down, she is still saving it for him. Maybe, after all this, he'll finally come home. She closes her eyes and tries to contact him, sending images into the void. She hopes they reach him, wherever he is.

*

The next day Jackson gets glimpses of a future he does not understand. It involves a small farm house in desperate need of a fresh layer of paint. It involves baseball, and a little girl he doesn't know. Sarah is there, sometimes, and it's peaceful and quiet and safe.

At night, his mother invites him into her dream. It is light and airy in there, with darkness looming just around the edges.

"Well?" he asks.

She sighs. "I have good news and bad news," she says.

He signals her to get on with it.

"You are not Mulder's brother," she says, visibly relieved.

"But I'm not his son either," he completes in her stead and she nods.

"Who is my father then?" he asks.

"You have no father," she says. "No human father, anyway. You are..."

"What, like Jesus?" he asks exasperated and she actually laughs.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. You're part alien, Jackson."

"But you're relieved," he says and she nods. "Now you can love me again."

"I always loved you!" she protests and he nods.

"But why did my visions...I thought he was my father," he says.

"He's your...creator, for lack of a better word. I am your mother, at least your birth mother."

"But I have no father."

She shakes her head. "No, but there's someone who desperately wants to be. Why don't you...there's no one chasing you now and I know you're tired...why don't you come and stay with us for a while? Finish high school. There's a room for you, there always was..."

"But you're having another baby," it hits him and she blushes, "I can't, it's dangerous..."

"He's dead, though, isn't he?" she asks. "The smoking man?"

He nods. "I found him in the water and had his head explode," he says. "I hate him."

"I think it's safe," she says. "Please, Will...Jackson. Please. Come home."

He does. He travels with Sarah to the remote corner of Virginia where his parents live. They welcome them with open arms, and finally he speaks to his mother in a reality where they both exist. He was always too shy, with her, to show her his true self. Again he is struck by how physically small she is, especially since, at home, she never wears high heels.

When Jackson has one of his dark urges, when he feels like hurting someone or himself, she lays a hand on his arm or ruffles his hair or gives him a warning look. Either way, it calms him. She has an uncanny ability to stabilize him, and he is grateful for her presence. After a few weeks in the house Sarah claims that he has changed. He's more at peace, she says. He's where he always should have been, he thinks. His mother and Mulder never judge him, aren't afraid of his powers, don't even seem surprised by them.

"Oh, we've seen worse, believe me," Scully says and Mulder's face break in a radiant grin.

Jackson and his mother have long conversations. She tells him about her family, about Mulder's family, about his birth. They talk philosophy and politics and he is relieved to discover how smart she is. Much more so than either of his adoptive parents, he is sad to admit. He misses them, of course, terribly. But he's also relieved to have someone who understands. He suspects Scully was always the odd one out; her intelligence separated her from the rest of the world, and she only found home in Mulder, who's at least as bright as she is. And he, Jackson, finds a home in both of them, the way he never thought he would.

Mulder is shy with him and with Sarah, but he seems happy to know them. He tries not to get in the way, at least. He encourages Jackson to explore his powers, and under his guidance Jackson discovers he has healing powers. Now, whenever someone gets hurt, he can fix it with a touch of his hand. It is the most intoxicating feeling. Finally, he feels useful. Mulder also has the craziest stories and both teenagers listen with a combination of fascination and disbelief. Scully, or Dana, rolls her eyes behind his back when he gets carried away, or she smiles at him in the most loving way. They are a strange couple, Mulder and Scully. They speak very little, except when they argue ("We do _not_ argue - we _debate_ ," Mulder corrects him, as Scully sniggers in the background). When they are together, though, they seem closed to the world. They don't even notice it, he thinks. They inhabit the same space, moving in unison and comfortable silence, gazing at each other when they think no one is watching.

"Your parents really love each other," Sarah says one day, right before she heads back home. She's going to college and Jackson is heartbroken but also glad, for her. And she'll be in Georgetown, not too far. He has to repeat the last year of high-school, but is determined to join her next year. He might have to fake his application. It's a good thing that now that he's near her, his mother can't read his mind anymore. She is also drawn inwards, focused on the new life inside of her. It's embarrassing, to see a 54 year old woman pregnant, but she seems so happy that he doesn't care. He doesn't question it, either, even though it makes no sense for her to be pregnant. This one _is_ Mulder's baby, she assures them both, I already had it sequenced. No, don't ask me how it happened, Jackson, I assume you know about the birds and the bees.

Jackson applies to college under the name William Jackson. His mother is moved, though she doesn't say anything. It's a community college in DC, but he works very hard and in two years manages to transfer to Georgetown. Sarah waits for him and they rent a small apartment together, near the university. On the weekends they go visit his family. His parents are visibly exhausted now, so they take his little sister off their hands for a while and let them sleep. Jackson, now called by everyone Will, loves her. She is tiny, like his mother, and loopy like his...Mulder. Sarah and him hold her between them and watch the sun set over the fields.

"I've been thinking of going into the FBI," he says. "I want to re-open the X files."

"I know," Sarah says, "I want it too. But we'll never get past the background check."

"Why?" Jackson said, "I know I was never...normal, but I don't technically have a criminal record."

"You also technically don't exist," Sarah said. "Jackson Van de Camp is dead, remember?"

"Yes, but William Jackson is alive and well, and attending a very good school. Plus I'll have warm recommendations from two FBI agents."

"Who were fired," Sarah remarked sarcastically.

"Fine, than don't join me," He spat, angry now.

"Oh, I will," she smiled at him, "but you'll have to wait a while for that. I'm going to medical school first."

"So you think we'll make it?" he asks.

"Maybe," she smiles in the general direction of the sunset, "we'll figure out a way."

He nods, happy. It's probably a bad idea, he thinks to himself as he considers his parent's history there. But it's also inevitable. Those files hold the answers to his identity.

"Maybe you should freeze some ova," he suggests and Sarah sniggers.

"You're a romantic one, aren't you, Will?"

He smiles back and squeezes her hand.


End file.
